


what I like, what you like (why can't we both be right)

by aniloquent



Series: Don't Wanna Fight [2]
Category: One Direction
Genre: M/M, Pining, Pining Louis, The X Factor Era, midnight water run, slight homophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-22
Updated: 2016-06-22
Packaged: 2018-07-16 17:00:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7276363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aniloquent/pseuds/aniloquent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Maybe I was. I like who I like. Is that a problem for you?” Harry was still skittish, and Louis realized with horror that Harry thought that he was a homophobe. As if Louis wasn’t arse over tit in love with him.</p><p>“Uh, no. Not at all, really.” Harry was quiet for a painful minute. “I like boys too, you know.”</p><p>-</p><p>Louis catches Harry in a compromising position that makes things easier and harder at the same time. X-Factor Era.</p>
            </blockquote>





	what I like, what you like (why can't we both be right)

**Author's Note:**

> Second installment in this series! It's sort of rushed, but I had to finish this because if I didn't, I know I literally wouldn't touch it until August. Enjoy!

Louis wasn’t really one for judging.

At 18, he wasn’t in Uni (grades and money were a problem that formed a lump in his throat when he thought about it for too long), could barely hold a job, and was the worst singer in a group full of boys younger than him (although Zayn would punch him if he heard Louis say that last part). He was in no place to shame anyone else for their life choices. If anything, Louis would just take everything in stride, attempting to make a joke out of it or ignore it completely. He didn’t bother wasting time on things that didn’t necessarily concern him.

But Harry was too enticing to ignore.

Louis would be lying through his fucking teeth if he said he had only noticed it after that chance encounter in the toilets. No, he saw Harry long before that, young and beautiful, unknowingly attracting all the attention around him - male and female - by doing almost nothing at all. Louis wasn’t exactly sure of his own sexuality, but he definitely saw something that he liked in those wide green eyes and nearly obscene pink mouth.

Meeting him while taking a piss was something Louis had to thank a higher being for.

His name was Harry, and he was cheeky, shy, flirt with a habit of wringing out giant hands, almost too big for his lithe body, and worrying that full bottom lip, whether it was between his teeth or long, nimble fingers. He was polite and extremely likeable, making easy conversation with Louis and laughing at all the right times, giggling in a high pitch squeal that was a long ways away from the gravelly deepness of his voice. Louis was nearly in love.

Unfortunately, it seemed that Harry became less and less of Louis’ little secret as the competition progressed.

Louis always considered himself a man of action, but not when it came to Harry. Not when he was so unsure of himself. How did he even touch a boy? Did Harry like boys? Did Louis like boys? Or was it just Harry, sweet, innocent Harry that made Louis’ heart race? Was Harry a person that Louis liked, that just happened to have the same parts of him?

Louis was trudging through internal turmoil as Harry’s popularity skyrocketed.

He refused to look Jade in the eye after the ordeal with the three dates and the girls. Louis was pissed, and he didn’t know if it was jealousy or protectiveness in his guts that planted bitter thoughts in his mind. The girls had made Harry look like some kind of womanizer, like some kind of cheater, when poor Harry had never done more than flirt harmlessly and shamelessly with other people. It was annoying and bad for the boy’s image. He was only 16.

Still, a small voice in the back of Louis’ mind reminded him that he really didn’t give two shits about how Harry looked to the viewers. He just wanted to be the one sitting across from those eyes at a nicely lit dinner table, laughing and possibly holding hands.

Louis didn’t allow himself to dwell on anything further than dinner.

He sighed, and turned his head to get a glance at Niall, sprawled out on his bunk across the room, blonde hair fanning out across his pillow. The boy was snoring slightly, jaw slack and eyes fluttered peacefully shut. By the faint street lights outside their room’s window, Niall looked more at ease than Louis had felt in  _ weeks _ .

Louis glanced at the digital clock resting on the dresser inches away from Niall’s head. 12:05 a.m.

He was about to will himself to sleep. It was late and they had rehearsal at nine the next morning, and Louis wouldn’t put it past Liam to punch him in the throat if he fucked up their routine anymore than he already had.

There was a problem, though. Harry still wasn’t in the bunk above him.

He had slipped out of their shared dorm about two hours earlier, muttering something about calling home, and he would be back in a little bit. His departure went nearly unnoticed by Niall and Louis, who were knee-deep in a FIFA tournament laced with obscenities and not-entirely-legal cheat codes and shoving. And more cheat codes.

Niall had dozed off a little over an hour ago, while Louis had stayed up, waiting for Harry to return and amble into the small mattress above his head. 

Louis had been waiting long enough for his brain to open up that line of thinking again, the one that replayed and analyzed that meeting in the bathroom too many times, the one that told him over and over again how impossible it would be to have Harry, who was an enigma that could do so much better than Louis.

He stood to his feet, which nearly buckled after hours of no use, and moved towards the door.

Louis was going to get a drink from the kitchen, he told himself. He even threw in a cough that was almost dry enough to be convincing. 

No you aren’t you knob, his brain snapped at him. Louis shuffled forwards and down the hall anyways. You’re going to look for the boy you can’t have.

That’s how it went for about five minutes, Louis bickering with himself until he reached the kitchen. Lovely.

He froze when he started hearing shuffling. Then a bump, and a low moan. He felt his face flush. This type of thing wasn’t unheard of. Most of the contestants were young, horny, and stressed. Hook-ups happened all the time. Mostly everyone had grown to ignore it (with the exception of Her Holiness Sister Liam James Payne, who would occasionally rush into Louis, Niall, and Harry’s room, mumbling something about Jade’s thighs with a blush high on his cheeks), and go on about their business.

Louis was torn, foot hovering hesitantly over the cool tile of the kitchen. He could clearly make out two dark figures, one hoisted up on the counter with the other trapped between the person’s thighs. They seemed not to notice Louis’ awkward presence, and both parties continue to paw and grope and fumble in a way that look desperate, and nearly painful to Louis. He winced. He should go, but he was actually really thirsty.

To hell with it, he thought. He was a man (sort of) with needs, and this could be a matter of life or death. What good would it be to his band if he were to keel over in the early hours of the morning from a small problem with a simple solution? Besides, the odds that he didn’t even know these people were very high, and he could avoid a few mean glances at breakfast and lunch if that meant getting his water.

Louis flipped on the light.

And oh.

_ Oh _ .

He was staring, rather dumbly, into wide green eyes that seemed to be watching him just as carefully. Harry had frozen, but the boy between his legs hadn’t. His hands were still roaming Harry’s body, fingers gripping at the bare, lean, milky flesh of Harry’s thighs while another seemed to inch dangerously closer to slipping completely under Harry’s shirt. Harry held Louis’ stare as an anonymous mouth laid sloppy kisses along his neck. He opened his mouth, as if to say something, but all that came out was a high-pitched moan that was  _ definitely _ not going to leave Louis’ memory any time soon.

Finally, Louis tore his eyes away from Harry’s, which seemed to be glazed over with lust, and Jesus, did Harry even know what he was doing? He cleared his throat and made his way over to the cupboard.

Harry’s potential lover jumped, and turned to Louis with wild eyes. His face was foreign to Louis, but the weary, worn lines around his eyes and the smatter of stubble on his chin was enough to tell Louis that this guy was older than him, and absolutely had to be older than Harry. Louis turned away from the duo to open the cabinet with a trembling hand. This had to be his worse nightmare. Catching Harry with girls was bad enough, but knowing that Harry apparently took a liking to boys as well and still didn’t choose Louis left a pang in his chest that he didn’t know how to deal with.

Louis continued to stare into the cupboard while Harry and the mystery guy spoke. He dug out a glass for Harry too, sympathizing with the way Harry was trying to calm down the dude, who was on the verge of hysterics.

They were talking low, but not low enough for Louis to miss the smack of lips on a cheek and the hurried, “Make sure he keeps this between us, yeah? I got a girl back home, and this could be bad for my rep.”

Louis’ knuckles tightened around the mug in his hand.

He turned in time to catch the guy giving Harry’s thigh a squeeze of thanks as the boy, still perched on the counter, nodded quietly. The man slipped out of the kitchen and into the night without another glance at either of them.

Louis looked at Harry, who was looking down in determination at his own feet and trying to shrink in on himself. Harry refused to meet his eyes, but Louis couldn’t leave it alone. He hastily filled both mugs with water.

“Harry,” Louis chided softly, pacing across the small kitchen and offering one cup as a makeshift peace offering. The younger brunet took it wordlessly, staring down at his water reflection. “This wasn’t a good idea.”

Harry was quiet for a moment before looking down at Louis, who was leaned against the counter besides one of Harry’s thighs. His eyes narrowed, and his mouth drew into a tight frown. “What, Louis? That I almost fucked someone that was taken, or that I almost fucked a guy?” Louis flinched at the defensive edge in Harry’s voice.

“You weren’t gonna fuck him,” Louis muttered helplessly. Harry snorted bitterly at his stiff form.

“Maybe I was. I like who I like. Is that a problem for you?” Harry was still skittish, and Louis realized with horror that Harry thought that he was a homophobe. As if Louis wasn’t arse over tit in love with him. As if Louis had a problem with Harry's apparent affinity for dick, although Louis shared the same interest. Albeit, on a less vocal and public scale, but still. 

Harry was afraid of Louis judging him, but Louis couldn't, even if he wanted to.

“Uh, no. Not at all, really.” Harry was quiet for a painful minute. “I like who I like too, you know.”

Louis saw Harry whip his head over to him in surprise, a hasty apology on his tongue. Louis felt too exposed already. He downed his midnight drink in a desperate gulp and sped out of the kitchen, offering a strangled, “Night, Harry,” over his shoulder before the younger boy could say anything else.

-

He still wasn’t asleep when Harry shuffled into their room fifteen minutes later, footsteps heavy and guilty.

Still, he rolled over onto his side and breathed heavily through his nose, eliciting snores that sounded artificial to even his own ears.

Harry ambled over to their bunk bed, body heat radiating onto Louis’. 

“Sorry, Lou,” he whispered, and climbed into the bunk above.


End file.
